


Down TIme

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform, Wrestling, downtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 11: Free. The way down time goes for the boys at Bobby's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down TIme

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only.

There’s always this lull in the hunting between Halloween and Christmas. Or, rather Samhain and Yule, as Sam’s come to think of them, after years of prolonged research – because the season explains a little about why things are quiet. Sam remembers when John figured that out, remembers being thankful because it meant he could settle down and focus on school without interruptions, usually in a school somewhere near Pastor Jim – which incidentally puts them about three hours from Bobby, four from the Roadhouse, and another three from another of Sam’s Native American contacts in Wisconsin. They’re not all that far from Kansas for that matter, either, but John doesn’t always venture down there. Dean appreciates that Dad likes to spend time with his friends, is glad the man has them, but damn, it would be nice to spend that lull somewhere WARM, for once. Dean’s pretty sure that Sam’s lack of objections have something to do with the fact that most of those people have huge libraries that even after twenty years of downtime, Sam still hasn’t read through.

This year they’re with Bobby, which has more to do with the fact that the Impala’s engine has been missing the last couple hundred miles than anything. It’s time for Dean and John to spend time bonding underneath her hood, taking her apart and putting her back together. Sam’s good for some extra muscle if they need it, or for sitting and cracking dirty jokes about the men underneath her sleek body until John makes a choking sound that sounds like anger but really muffles a laugh, takes a deep breath and comes out to give Sam a look that sends him running for the hills. Really, the boy shouldn’t know such filth, John always thinks fondly, forgetting that Sam’s observant, spent four years at college, and well, there’s always Dean.

Bobby also has a barn out back, good for working on cars in inclement weather, where Sam used to flee to, get away from things when he needed to. Bobby and John now tacitly avoid the barn, because now it’s Dean and Sam together out there. Bobby’s too smart to be blind to what the boys have between them, and in his usual way, it doesn’t get talked about. Dean’s the only one who feels the need to be making excuses, when they go out there, usually tosses off a line about running some practice out there. The older men nod and go back to whatever reference they were arguing over, John waving a dismissive hand. Sam usually saunters out slowly, dawdling enough that Dean’s getting up from the nest of haybales and blankets they’ve made up in the loft, and coming to look for him.

That’s always good for Sam jumping him, so that there’s a brief wrestling match before hand – Sam’s way of validating Dean’s lame excuse. And if Dean gets to mouthy about it, Sam’s also good at pulling their father aside later, and accusing Dean of having completely flubbed some fighting technique that will have his father deepening whatever bruises Sam puts on his big brother in such moments. Revenge is sweet, and even sweeter after four years at Stanford taking advantage of the many martial arts programs the college had to offer – not to mention the numerous black belts Sam earned, since after years of John’s training, he picks up new techniques swiftly. Dean doesn’t know about the black belts, since Sam usually lets his brother win. John does. And the first time Bobby watched them spar after Sam came back to the fold, well, John told Sam later that Bobby’d excused himself to go laugh himself silly back at the house, because it was obvious to the older man what Sam had spent four years doing, and Dean remains completely oblivious to the fact.

Today though, it’s Sam who hits the ground, because Dean’s kinda got it in for him, since Sam’s been a cocktease the whole damn morning. Dean sweeps his feet out from underneath him, coming out from the shadows, and he pins the kid quickly, getting him facedown in record times. He gets a good grip on Sam’s hands, kneels on the small of his back. Sam’s laughing.

“C’mon, Dean, let me up.”

And then Dean’s mouth is next to his ear, hot and sensuous. “I don’t think so, Sammy. You’ve been bad.”

A thrill runs up and down Sam’s spine, flowers into his gut. “I’m not bad, Dean,” he says in his best seven year old’s voice. “You’d tell Dad if I was,” he says with a smirk.

“You wanna bet?” Dean nips at Sam’s ear, and the younger boy squirms. “I think you’ve forgotten that I’m the older brother. Is that the case, boy?”

Sam bucks, manages to get Dean off his back briefly, but doesn’t manage to turn the tables – it turns into a wrestling match that backs them up against one of the wooden benches that Bobby’s got stored in there. Dean crows with delight as Sam loses his balance again, and next thing he knows, Sam’s over his big brother’s lap and biting off a heartfelt swearword.

“Deeaaannn-“

“I don’t think so,” comes the purr. “You, my friend, have been a naughty Sammy.” Sam squirms, and Dean can feel the kid’s hard-on. He brings the first swats down fast and hard, and Sam cries out, more out of frustrated lust than anything, he’s achingly hard. “I might consider points for good behaviour, however,” Dean muses, his hand rubbing circles over Sam’s bottom, knowing it will increase the stinging there. “If you can behave yourself, get up to the loft without any more nonsense, I might just be able to leave your belt in your jeans, let you get away with a handspanking.” Sam moans, and squirms harder. “Can you do that, Sammy?”

Sam barely chokes out a yes, and Dean’s standing him upright. He gives his big brother a shy look, and Dean rewards the lack of struggle with a long kiss, and another caress on the stinging rear. He loves the little boy look on Sam’s face, and he takes the trouble to march the kid to the loft ladder, and swat his butt all the way up it, though not hard enough to mess with Sam’s balance. He sees Sam repress an obvious urge to tackle him into the hay, and chuckles, tugging Sam to him, fingers hooked in the boy’s belt.

It isn’t long before Dean’s got both of them undressed, and is examining his handiwork, landing a few more satisfying smacks, the crack of practiced hand on muscled buttocks loud and pleasing in the air. Sam’s whimpering and begging before he’s finished, and it doesn’t take long before Dean’s buried in Sam’s tight heat, and Sam’s returning the favor. The two of them lie pleasantly tired on the worn sheet covering the blankets and hay, watching dust motes dance in the thin winter sunlight that comes through the hayloft window.

Sam laughs, and then he’s kissing Dean for all he’s worth, just because. It’s winter, they’ve got downtime, their father, a good friend, and a batch of young pups around to play with, Sam’s got a library and Dean a whole yard full of car parts. And they’ve got each other, Sam’s ass and Dean’s hand are both stinging pleasantly from the spanking, and it’s one of those rare moments when they can look at each other, and they both just feel free.

**Author's Note:**

> Music: Vonda Shephard - Soothe Me


End file.
